Make Me Pregnant For A Mistress, My Husband Is Crazed With Regret

Chapter 4

But those words brought me no joy.

Why wasn't it aborted?

I lay numb on the hospital bed, a lifeless puppet.

After rising, I completed discharge formalities and booked my departure flight.

Then, to the scheduled hospital for the abortion procedure.

One more day, and I'd vanish completely.

Before I could leave, bodyguards dragged me to Claire's bedside.

War's gaze was icy, devoid of warmth.

"Apologize."

I clenched my teeth against the pain. "I've done nothing wrong. Why should I?"

"I told you it wasn't me!"

He forced me down, knees screaming as if they'd shatter.

His eyes darkened. "Still refusing to admit your guilt."

"Eve, when did you become so cruel? Must you drive her to death for satisfaction?"

He gripped my chin, voice dropping to a threat.

"You don't want yesterday's video leaked. Or do you truly want nude photos circulating?"

"Behave. This is your fault. Don't make me force you."

I stared in disbelief—he'd gone this far for Claire.

Remembering the child still within me, I let tears spill over.

I knew he'd follow through.

Prostrate on the floor, dignity gone. Blood seeped through my forehead bandage, but the knife twisting in my chest hurt more.

"I'm sorry... It's my fault..."

Claire trembled like a frightened mouse.

"N-no need..."

Eyes red-rimmed, her entire frame pitifully fragile.

War moved to comfort her, voice softening.

"Don't worry. While I'm here, no one will touch you."

I'd witnessed this tenderness countless times before.

But never as an outsider.

Fingers curling, my heart a raw, gaping wound.

After a pause, Claire dabbed at her tears.

"I can't finish this. Such a waste to throw away. Could she eat it as an apology?"

War tousled her hair fondly.

"Of course, darling."

Bodyguards dumped a plate of leftover shrimp before me.

Eyes widening, voice shaking.

"War—I'm allergic to seafood!"

He paused briefly, as if recalling something.

Claire sniffled and said with faux consideration, "Since the lady can't eat it, I'll have it instead. I've never had these before—what a waste to throw them out."

War immediately stopped her, turning with an icy, vicious glare. "It's just an allergy—she won't die. After what you've done, this is nothing but a minor punishment, and you still dare make excuses!"

A chill of dread spread through me as I resignedly reached for a shrimp.

My hands erupted in angry red welts, and my throat constricted until I could barely breathe.

War appeared briefly conflicted. "Call the doctor," he said.

I thought he had softened—but then, the next moment, I heard his voice again.

"Let her finish eating first. Then the doctor can treat her."

I let out a hollow, broken laugh, my lips swollen and numb. I was certain I would die right there.

Maybe death would be better…

Before I could swallow the last shrimp, I lost consciousness.

In the last hazy moment before unconsciousness, I thought I heard War's voice—frantic with panic.

When I woke again, I was in the same hospital room.

With eerie calm, I yanked out the IV and walked away. This time, no one stopped me.